


When We Wake Up

by always_teatime



Category: Log Horizon
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual aromantic character, Gray-A Shiroe, Gray-A William, Gray-Asexual Character, Lithromantic William, M/M, Minor Memory Loss, Other, Queerplatonic relationship, Quioromantic Character, Quioromantic William, WTFromantic Character, WTFromantic William, William's many speeches, lithromantic character, moon blossoms, queerplatonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_teatime/pseuds/always_teatime
Summary: Shiroe comes back to life in time to hear only the last few minutes of William's speech. At first, he needs to know if those words were honest. After the raid, he wants to hear the rest.William stumbles through Shiroe's information based trust system and accidentally does everything right.
Relationships: Shiroe & William Massachusetts, William Massachusetts/Shiroe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	When We Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> In the anime’s flashbacks for William’s life outside the game, and based on how he talks about his life experiences, he seems like he’s actually been living on his own for several years. It’s far more believable to me that he’d be about Shiroe’s age, with the ability to relate to Shiroe on two important levels: life experience, and also as a somewhat unconventional or unexpected guild leader.
> 
> This starts at William's speech in the Abyssal Shaft. It shouldn't spoil anything.

Shiroe had never stopped being the isolated boy on the bench. It took one death to remind him of that. He knew now what William meant, and what Silver Sword's other members would feel like, too, after a complete raid party wipe.

The beginning of Shiroe coming back to the world was hazy. He was made of lead but also floating. His eyelids might require a pulley system now to open. And a very cold gel packed inside his skull really wanted to leak out of him from the point where the back of his head touched the ground.

He heard William Massachusetts speaking, but he didn’t understand. The syllables made no sense. Shiroe worried for a moment he'd forgotten Japanese. Could that happen? Or was this English? William's name suggested he'd know English. Shiroe wondered if he might even be a foreigner who for some reason played on Japanese servers.

Soon enough, however, sounds and pauses started resolving themselves automatically again in Shiroe's brain. Nobody was speaking English; Shiroe was just groggy.

So, a false alarm—but Shiroe simply hadn’t been sure how severe any forgetfulness would be.

He kept still and silently analyzed the remaining minutes of the Silver Sword guildmaster's speech before he sat up. He let Naotsugu fuss over him and outlined a new combat strategy as he rewound what he could remember of those earlier words and phrases he heard but couldn't quite process right after he came back to life.

He knew now his plan could work, because William Massachusetts was an extraordinary person.

He sought out the Silver Sword guildmaster, who still sat near the raid entrance, picking absently at the hem of his cloak.

“Just sit,” said William, without looking up.

Shiroe smiled. He settled next to the man he hadn't needed to persuade, blackmail, or trick into following him to this place. “Our equipment's wearing thin, isn't it?” He gestured to William's fingers pinching the fabric of his cloak.

“Yeah. You know, back when this was all a game, you'd see every hardcore raider getting antsy anytime their equipment got below sixty percent. Everyone wanted breaks so they could run to town. Now look at us. Running attempts like we're machines. What're you at, twenty percent?”

“Higher. I keep a few sets of equipment, actually, and I rotate between them.”

William’s eyes glinted. “You can't possibly have multiple sets of gear that can stand up to new content. This game isn't like others before it, where you had maybe six to eight classes. _Elder Tale_ 's class sets all compete with each other in the loot table, so even one takes forever to get.”

“You're right. Normally it's hard to collect more than one set of end game equipment that's powerful enough to push progression. If I played a damage dealer like you, I could never get away with it. As an enchanter, however, most of my abilities scale badly with my stats. It's best for me to focus on resistance and utility and make do with base damage.”

A grin spread across William’s lips as Shiroe pushed back. “So that's why you like the Thorn Bind Hostage spell. Most enchanters don’t use it. It scales the worst out of all your skills. Isn't that right? On your own, you can't attack fast enough to justify the spell's cost before it fades away. But in a well coordinated party, you detonate all charges easily at strategic moments. You can delay or force a phase change.”

Once, Shiroe would have been surprised at how quickly William grasped Shiroe's way of thinking—but not anymore. Now Shiroe could simply nod, enjoy it, and continue: “Thorn Bind Hostage is a true group encounter move where damage becomes utility. That potential distinguishes enchanters as a true support class from a healer, or a hybrid like bards.”

“Still, stats aren't everything on a piece of gear. Don't you care about set bonuses?”

“If you pick and choose carefully, and you're an old veteran, you can use previous tiers’ partial set bonuses to create a combination more powerful than the newest full set. You'll suffer mostly in your stats, which I've already said enchanters like me can ignore—although go back too far and you'll drop to unmanageable health and mana totals. Usually three expansions is the limit.”

“You're lucky. I really miss the level fifty ranged assassin bonus. Or… or was it forty?” William frowned and furrowed his brow. Then he shook his head sharply. “Whatever. It was so good I was still using it halfway into the next expansion. Even with much better stats on the first wave of new gear, if I used that old bonus right, I'd get bigger numbers.” William smiled fondly. “That was a really creative time to be raiding. Wish you'd been there with me.”

“Oh, you don't mean that. I probably wouldn't have improved your progression.”

“Shiroe.” There had been something tight in William throughout their whole exchange. It had been fading while they talked gear and mechanics, but now it was back, and so was something else Shiroe imagined must have suffused his frame while he made his speech. It was similar to the way he looked at Demikas in the tavern, but somehow greater, and sharp as a two-edged sword. “I never say anything I don't mean.”

“I apologize. I should have said instead that you flatter me. It was clear from the way you agreed to help me that you're a sincere person.” He paused—then pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Still. Do you think you'd ever lie? Would you say something you didn't mean, something that wasn't true, if it would solve a problem for you, or for your guild?”

“Tch.” William bared his teeth. His fist clenched. For a moment, Shiroe didn't know what he'd do. Would he break Shiroe's nose, or grab him by the throat? Then William sighed, and all aggression drained from his frame. When he did that, he simply looked tired. “To be honest... If I were in that situation, and the idea I could lie occurred to me, I don't know what I'd do. But it doesn't occur to me, so I'm never tested. I'm sorry I can't give a better answer to your question. Outside of that moment, in general, I'd say I just think lies are weaker than the truth, and coming up with them is a waste of time. They aren’t me. That’s the bottom line.”

“Don't be sorry. That's a good answer. There is one more thing, though. How do you know when you're telling the truth? What if you can't correctly describe how you feel, and you end up giving the wrong impression?”

“Why? Is that something you worry about?”

“I need to hear your answer first.”

“Fine. Well, I don't believe in good intentions. What's important to me is results. Sometimes I have to talk my way up to the words that feel like truth. Sometimes that takes a real damn long time. Like today. But I get there eventually.”

Shiroe frowned. He quietly maintained his near meditative pose, balancing his hands on his knees. He stared down at the diamond of space his legs made.

Then he told William everything about his goals in the Abyssal Shaft.

###

After the raid, after most of the revelry, in the tavern where snow now threatened to trap them, William rose from his place next to Shiroe and walked toward the kitchen door, around the dying hearth.

“William, wait.”

One glance back showed him Shiroe, one hand half raised, eyes wide. William grinned. “Don't worry. I'm coming back.” And he did, carrying two armfuls of wood which he dumped onto the fire.

“Oh.” Shiroe watched as William took a poker to the blaze. “Are you cold?”

“No. But you are, right?”

Shiroe, huddled in his full enchanter's cloak and squeezed up as close as his chair would let him to the fire, nodded like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Thank you.” (Did he think he wasn't obvious, or something? thought William. Shiroe even wore a turtleneck when he wasn't fighting, like a bold print sign that read _I GET COLD EASILY._ )

“Just don't ask if I'm a liar again,” said William. “I know it's hard to match a lot of what was in my speech with me taking care of you, but like I said, I've changed.”

“Oh. Yes, that reminds me, your speech. Ah, this is embarrassing. William, I have to ask you for something else.”

Again? Another challenge? Excellent. “Yes.”

Shiroe startled so badly, William wondered how he didn't fall from his chair. “What—”

“My answer is yes. I'll do it. You can have it. Whatever.” William crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “Don't look so surprised. You asked. Isn't that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes, of course, but we just got back from a one month long impossible quest. How can you accept so easily again?”

“This time it was easier.”

“I could want anything! I could say we're going back! Doesn't that make you hesitate, even a bit?”

“It'd be worth it just for the look of surprise on your face!”

“What about your guildmates?”

“What about them? They follow me because of who I am. They already know I do things like this. Anyway, I hear you popularized the saying 'adventurers are free'.” He grinned. “I like it. If you've got another victory for me, Shiroe, I'll gladly take it.”

“Now I think I'll disappoint you.” Shiroe smiled and lowered his eyes to his hands clasped together on the table. “Here is my request. You see, when I came back to life that day, you were already almost finished with your speech. I'd like to hear everything you said and how you inspired everyone again, if that's okay.”

“What? That? I had to make it up on the spot! I didn't memorize it!” William fleetingly realized he was feeling the swift smack of karma for laughing at Shiroe's surprise moments earlier.

“I know it's a tall order, in a different way than what we've already been through. But it's what I want, and you did say you'd give it to me.” Shiroe pushed his glasses up on his nose, but the light didn't glint off of them. His head tilted slightly to one side, and his hair was messy. William realized this must be the villain's other face, the one that wasn't always thinking about leverage. The one with eyes not constantly scanning positions on the Go board. William liked both faces, in the same way he liked both new challenging boss fights and old favorites the whole world had on farm. Maybe liking all of Shiroe made William a bad person, although William suspected Shiroe felt the same way—that Shiroe didn't hate the villainous part of himself. At least, he hoped that was the case.

William sighed. He braced his forearms on the table and leaned toward Shiroe. “To be honest, I've been assuming this whole time that you heard the whole speech.”

“I could tell you believed that, and I neglected to mention otherwise.”

Villainy again, thought William, bleeding over. The effect was mesmerizing. “Why?”

“If you think you've already revealed a secret to someone, you won't think twice about bringing it up again with them. It's also a small step toward telling them more. I hoped you'd continue being open with me.”

“I see. And that's what I did. Not too bad, Shiroe.” William admired the way Shiroe could mislead and misdirect, how he could use other people's assumptions and feed them precisely enough rope to tangle themselves by. How he knew combat down to the second and juggled people's lives in his hands. Just the same, he admired Shiroe now, the relaxed face that greeted those who earned it. No, those who _won_ it. William shuddered with a sudden warm jolt. Yes, Shiroe gave him victory. With every word and moment shared, he kept on giving it.

“I apologize. It was underhanded.”

“I can't deny I'm pissed you thought you had to test me. But any guy who goes that far to get to know me also deserves forgiveness, in my book.”

“You're an unusual person, William Massachusetts.”

“You made villainous plans to get close to me the way you'd do to take over a country. I mean, I get you're like that about everything, but it's still flattering.” Very flattering, in fact. Very nice. “Hm. Okay. The speech. What's the first thing you remember?”

“I want to hear it from the beginning.”

“I'm telling you it was ad lib. I didn't even mean to make it a whole thing. What are you snickering for? Damn it. Whatever. Let's see. Okay. I think I started doubting myself. Really loudly. Which stopped everybody else from doing the same thing quietly. I got around to me before games. Gaming is the only thing I've ever taken seriously, so me before gaming wasn't pretty. I didn't bother with other people. Once I got into raids—really leading raids and running with regular groups—I started bothering. Just a little bit. Without even realizing it. I didn't realize it until it hit me that I knew all these stupid things about my healer, my tank, my whoever. This chick’s in school, this guy's got a kid, this one’s sick, you know how it is, how you pick up that shit, how people just mention it. I learned how to manage and lead raids because I wanted to win, and I was tired of other raid leads fucking it up. I started a guild, became a guild master. Took it seriously. And the whole time... People think we're dumb, you know? They want to know when we're gonna grow up.”

“But we're, ah—” Shiroe cleared his throat, “ _gamers, damn it._ ”

“There you go. Now you're caught up.” William grinned at Shiroe's weaksauce imitation of him. “See, there's your TL;DR. Doesn't have to take half an hour. You heard the important part.”

“I think there's value in long form.”

“Not many people I meet feel that way. Have you read _The Lord of the Rings_?”

“By the Black Widower, what was his name... the American... Tolkien? No, I'm afraid not.”

William tried not to feel too disappointed. He should have known Shiroe sharing his obscure foreign literature interests was too good a dream to be true. There was talk of a Tolkien movie someday, maybe, and his work was gaining popularity in Japan, but—William stopped himself. That was the other world, the life they'd all left behind. Now there was only _Elder Tale_.

Even if Shiroe got it in his head after this to read Tolkien, he couldn't. Which was definitely very high up on William's list of all things ever that sucked. Shiroe would have been great to talk Tolkien with.

“William, are you American?”

“Nah. I'm just really into their pop culture.”

“I think culture is about more than where you come from. And the world is coming closer together in our age, both outside and in _Elder Tale_.”

“Speaking of places we come from. You said you're ready to get back to your city?” William couldn't help sounding angry about it. But people told him he always sounded angry, so maybe Shiroe wouldn't notice.

Shiroe nodded. “Tomorrow morning. It should really be tonight. It's a difficult call between waiting for better flying conditions and risking getting snowed in.”

“Make some noise when you get up.”

Shiroe smiled at that. And sure enough, the next morning, he and his people didn't simply sneak away. They blasted a path through the buried streets together, and when William told Shiroe to add him to his friends list (cursing how he didn't know how to sound less vulnerable and angry), Shiroe told him, “I already did.”

And didn't that just take the world first for William Massachusetts getting worked up and worried over nothing.

###

Shiroe called William the next day. He skipped niceties and immediately asked: “How do you keep people from falling in love with you?”

William paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. His guild had been brewing a stew since early that morning, and now that it was ten hours tender, he'd thought to hang around all evening with his guildmates to enjoy it. Yeah, Elves were his favorite Tolkien race, and sure the Dwarrow were badass and liked their loot, but Hobbits had their heads screwed on right when it came to enjoying awesome food.

“William?”

“Hang on. Let me step out.” William abandoned his stew to whoever wanted to pounce on it and slid from behind his fireside table. He grabbed a tankard of black coffee off the bar as he passed by, then kicked the back door open—despite the low rankers’ efforts, it kept getting blocked and nearly stuck by more snow. He threw his shoulder against it to shove it the rest of the way open, stepped out, and kicked it closed again. He stood in the outside party area with its buried picnic tables and frosted fencing. Icicles hung a foot down from the roof, and William’s breath swirled out like pipe smoke. The cold was a relief; he’d started sweating an hour ago inside.

“William, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I heard you. Love stuff.” William shoved a barrel out of the way so he could sit down on a crate behind it and lean against the tavern wall. “So what’s going on? And what makes you think I know about relationships?”

“Please answer my question first.”

“Hn. Okay.” William leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “It’s been more a damage control than prevention thing for me. Not that I’ve had to deal with it often. Can count it on one hand, actually, even if I add the real life clusterfucks to the ones that created drama in raiding.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“There was this girl. Amazing tank. She was always on time, she knew the fights, she followed instructions, and she got the job done. I think she was in high school. I’d been out of that and working almost—four, five years? Salvaging architectural shit out of places that were getting knocked down, had my own contracting team. I was like a real life raid leader. Anyway. This tank girl. It was pretty clear she didn’t have a lot else in her life besides my guild and the game, so I think that’s why she got hung up on me. If I picked up on it sooner…” William growled and thumped his head against the wall. “I didn’t even realize I was leading her on. I’m so oblivious to that shit. I felt like she was my apprentice or something, like you mentor somebody in a job. I was teaching her how to co-lead. She worked so hard to earn my respect. I didn’t know what she was bottling up.”

“How did you find out?”

“I guess she couldn’t do it anymore one day, and she told some other members, and it trickled back to me. I called her. I got angry. I felt like I’d been led on, too, you know? Anyway, she left. I’ll admit I screwed that talk up bad, but I think at that point there was no good end anyway where she could have stayed and been okay. I never did the personal mentoring and attention thing again. And it took forever to get another good tank.”

“It’s difficult,” said Shiroe.

“Fuck yeah, good tanks are damn cryptids.” But William knew what Shiroe meant.

“I’m having a similar situation right now. Several of them, actually. I feel like it’s my fault. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Is it creating a problem?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Well, I’m obviously not an expert in how guild leaders should handle this, but at least I know how we shouldn’t. You don’t have to solve it in a day, okay? You don’t seem likely to fly off the handle like me, but that’s one way I don’t recommend.”

Shiroe laughed quietly. “Yes. I was just thinking I need a plan. It might be easier if I… Well, there are benefits to the attention. Loyalty. Cohesiveness. It would be fine if it stayed where it is. But beyond the initial stage, there are expectations. And I don’t want anyone to fight or feel jealousy. I don’t want to hurt them, or pretend.” His voice went even quieter, almost to a hush. “I pretended once. That was what I thought about, when I died. I was a boy sitting on a bench, and everything was gray. I think I just wanted someone to see me, to be interested in me in some important way, but when everyone tells you what you’re feeling must be a crush… I never want to do that again.”

“It’s true most people want you to decide eventually.” William scuffed his boot against the ground. “They won’t let you have it both ways.” And damn it, that just pissed William off. “Hey, Shiroe. I wanna ask you something. You said the attention doesn’t bother you. It’s where it goes, and the expectations. Would it be okay if somebody only wanted you to accept what they felt, and you didn’t have to give anything back?” Would it be okay if William felt that way?

“I think that might be…” Shiroe’s voice sounded shaky. “I would have to think about it. I have a hard time believing someone might be out there who’d be happy like that.”

“Shiroe, I—”

“Don’t ask me a question,” he whispered. Forceful and desperate.

“Okay.” William thought for a moment. Forced himself to change track. “I’m drinking coffee right now, and it’s shit. It’s not even tasteless, it’s actively shit. Somebody chose to make it like this. I’m impressed.”

Shiroe exhaled in a relieved gust and started laughing, apparently caught off guard.

Hell yeah, William could do this. He launched into a rant about consumables and cooking ingredients, and about how this swill was still better than what he used to drink outside the game.

From then on, William knew what to do when Shiroe approached him with a revealing series of questions. After three or four answers from William, Shiroe would share his own secrets. They seemed to be unrelated at first, both in content and quantity to what William's side of things had been. Maybe William simply couldn't connect the dots. Maybe the secrets weren't what was important.

They'd ping each other out of the blue, and if they weren't careful, they'd talk for hours.

William didn't know when exactly or why the questions became even more personal, and he suspected Shiroe had even less awareness about that than him. He didn't know why he felt so guilty when he couldn't answer a question the way he thought he ought to—or when the answer was something he'd forgotten as a result of one of his many deaths.

Still, the exchanges could get pretty intense.

So William figured he wasn’t out of line when he asked if Shiroe liked moon blossoms.

Shiroe seemed puzzled. “The flower?”

“Yeah, never mind. They show up in Tolkien. ‘The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, and bright are the windows of night in her tower.’ It’s moving and poetic. I picked up a whole gardening habit so I could make my apartment balcony look like the Mirror of Galadriel. Which was a powerful elf scrying pool. I got moon blossoms growing around a bird bath. Anyway, they’re white or blue depending on the light, and also pink sometimes. They bloom at night and close up in the morning.”

“I see,” said Shiroe. “I think they’re in Elder Tale.”

“Yeah! There’s actually an easter egg in the Glade starter dungeon I think was made by another Tolkien fan. You’ve been to it?”

“Never at night. No, I’m talking about a special corner of the Old Midway City. It’s the capital the creators of Elder Tale scrapped. You can fall through the world if you know what you’re doing and see the levels hanging in gray space.”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve been there. I thought I saw everything, but I started really late at night with some guildmates, and we didn’t get to the throne room until the sun was up the next day.”

“You don’t have to go that far in, actually. There’s a false wall before the turn to the lava flow. You step through the—” Shiroe broke off and chuckled. “Why am I explaining this? I’m sure you’d like to see it. Why don’t we go together? You can show me the glade, but I’d like to show you the old city first.”

So that was how William ended up outside those damn gates again, in the place where he last saw Shiroe in person and wanted to get on that legendary flyer with him. This time, Shiroe soared down over the horizon on a giant chestnut eagle. Broad wings blew up wind and powder like a helicopter as they touched down on the plain in front of William.

William ran up, and Shiroe offered him his hand.

William took it. Obviously. He swung up behind Shiroe, hugged his waist from behind, and pressed his face against Shiroe’s shoulder with zero fucking subtlety. He growled, “Took you long enough. Did you bring this eagle for me? It’s a Tolkien thing.”

“I asked around,” admitted Shiroe.

“Hn. Well, it’s awesome. Thanks.”

Shiroe hesitated. “Say,” he started, “do you think you could,” and one of his hands rested over William’s.

“Shit, sure, sorry, we literally just talked about this. My bad.” William tried to let go and probably would have flung himself backward off the damn bird—

But Shiroe’s hand tightened over his. “It’s okay,” said Shiroe. “Can you actually… try to hug more of my chest also? I used to… Have you ever piled blankets on yourself, just to feel the weight? The pressure. It’s very comforting.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I can do that.” William shifted so his forearms crossed Shiroe’s chest from ribs to the opposite shoulder. He felt Shiroe breathe in deep against him and just hold the air against the restraint of William’s arms. “You okay?”

“Perfect,” murmured Shiroe, so William kept him like that, and they took off to look for their lost city.

It was Dwarrow inspired, of course. Once they dismissed the eagle in midair and dropped into the crevasse in the land, gray space opened up around them. William caught the ledge he remembered with one hand and, a sudden panic surging in him, yanked Shiroe close with the other.

Shiroe would have been fine. They’d both been here before. But if you didn’t catch yourself and you fell, you’d die, and William didn’t want Shiroe to die. Not again. Not too much. They were living a different kind of life now, but he still didn’t want—dying was horrible. Shiroe was someone he wanted to know and keep, but more than that, someone who shouldn’t grow foggy and start to lose himself.

Shiroe, feet safe on the stone beside William’s, looked down at William’s hand and smiled. “Well, we’re here.”

William nodded. He drew back, coughed, and set off down the corridor, bow in hand. “Stop at the first turn, right? I’ll tank.”

William had always loved fighting out in front. It freaked people out in PvP. In raids, it let his guildmates always see how awesome he was. It let them see strength came from ambition and initiative, and being different.

Because he was a gamer, damn it. Real gamers don’t care how they’re _supposed_ to play. Like, thanks devs, but screw their intentions for the game’s classes. Adventurers are free.

The enemies here were elites of a faction that would have been called the Ancient Barrow Kin, if they hadn’t been scrapped. Basically Dwarrow with a big focus on rune magic. They were a big deal a few expansions ago, but with William and Shiroe’s gear and seamless teamwork, they were trivial. William reached down as he stepped over each body, snagging their loot pouches and throwing them over his shoulder without looking at Shiroe. He only looked back to read Shiroe’s face, to confirm they were on the same page, and they always were.

Hell yeah.

They got to the turn. William stopped. Shiroe took his arm and guided them through the false wall, then along a narrow path of fragmented stone that bridged gray nothingness. The background music changed. William heard distant soothing strings and bright windchimes. A light blue glow grew up ahead. They stepped onto solid ground.

As Shiroe had said, it was a garden, and it was beautiful. Genuine moon blossoms cascaded down terraces and drank of fine mist whispering out from the walls. They glowed like spirit. They were they kind of flower you had to grow, not pluck, because you couldn’t see them like this in a bouquet.

It brought back memories of the garden alcove he made on his balcony, as vibrant as though he had just watered it, as though he’d just tended the scrying pool bird bath and drawn up plans to light it with glass bead jewelry pinned onto paper lanterns…

As though he had just logged in, as though he never died, he remembered: how he felt when he kicked open the door off his kitchenette every morning. He used to run his fingers through his tangled hair and breathe in the smell of his home and passion project. He’d stand there and center himself with it, the greenery and his little budding companions, their glow soft in the barely-dawn light, before he even went in to brew his coffee. He’d leave the door open and let light filter in, and listen to the distant traffic and bike bells and the rush of trains, as he stuffed protein bars into his tool belt. He’d walk out one more time before he left, and he’d breathe in this sense of contentment and peace. There, in the morning, he’d feel like he was real. He hadn’t felt like that in such a long time, but he felt it now, and he tried to hang on.

He didn’t want to forget who he was.

He turned to Shiroe, watching him quietly all this time, and said, “You know, there are these old houses in the countryside. They’re falling apart and breaking down all the time. I love going in and finding things that were gonna be forgotten. Real life loot, you know? There are shrines, too, got to be torn down and rebuilt every however many years from scratch for some reason. I get all these calls from the prefectures in the middle of the night. They tell me I have two days, maybe three. I get out there with my team, and it’s like pushing for a world first, trying to yank out the nice doors and windows and tiles and beams before the bulldozers roll in. I love my job, man. I love my team. They’re like my other guild, and I hope they’re doing okay right now. And I hope one of them’s watering my moon blossom flowers, because I know we’re doing the Glade starter dungeon easter egg after this, but one of these days I want to show you what I built, and tell you how it’s gonna grow once I buy some land.”

“Can you answer a question for me?” said Shiroe.

“You know me, I can talk forever. Shoot.”

“Did you like moon blossoms before you read _The Lord of the Rings_?”

“I had no idea what they were. It was definitely a fanboy thing. But then I started to like them in their own right.”

Shiroe nodded. He touched his fingertips to a flower bulb near him, and for a moment William worried he’d pluck it. But Shiroe only trailed his fingers along what William knew to be their incredible silky softness.

William said, “Thanks for taking me here.”

“I’m sure you could have found it, since I told you.”

“Yeah, whatever. You know what I mean. It’s so hard to get people to appreciate this. Even if they’ve read the books. You haven’t read any, but you look like you get it.”

“If you could have,” Shiroe hesitated, looking torn, but went on. “If you could have seen yourself, the way your face changed, when we walked in… You helped me understand it. It was like I could feel more, when I saw that you did.”

“Really?”

“I’m starting to worry I can’t relate enough to other people. Maybe I couldn’t before. But maybe it’s worse here, in the game.”

“Is this about people falling in love with you?”

Shiroe sighed and bowed his head. William thought he was going to refuse the question, but then Shiroe said, “Yes.”

“I guess I used to worry about that,” said William. “I thought I had to figure myself out. I have this feeling about you, you know. And it’s a feeling… I’ve never been able to tell, when I get it about somebody, whether it’s supposed to be romantic. Whether that even means anything to me or makes sense. My shit doesn’t come with the manual everybody else apparently got. And I hate the manual anyway. I just want…”

Shiroe reached out, took William’s hand, and lifted it up to his shoulder to rest over that thick white cloak.

“Like that,” said William. “Like this.”

“Something like earlier?”

“Yeah. But that’s not all I got to say about it. Just so we’re clear, I don’t want you to be in love with me. If I’m maybe into somebody, I don’t want them to be into me. I don’t know why, okay. And I want things that fit into… well, fuck it, I basically want homoerotic subtext, because I need to not limit it. That’s how I can do it and still feel like me. Like this morning. Like I do now.” His eyes burned. “Damn it, Shiroe. You help me feel like me.”

The glow of the moon blossoms seemed more beautiful somehow, in the way their colors flowed onto Shiroe’s white cloak. The cloak that felt so smooth and soft beneath William’s fingers, like the moon blossom petals themselves.

“I think I get it,” said Shiroe. His eyes were wide. “Thank you. I think what I want… is for someone to have the feeling you have for me. And I want to not… to not be expected to return it.”

“You said you thought that might not be possible,” said William. “You thought nobody would be okay with it.”

“You look very smug.”

William grinned. And, well, now that they had a few things settled, did that mean he could really be himself? Really enjoy this? He brought his other hand up and straightened Shiroe’s cloak and collar, stepping in close, nudging his forehead against Shiroe’s.

“Oh,” said Shiroe.

“I’m not gonna kiss you,” said William. “I can’t even figure out if I want to. I like thinking about it. But it’d make me feel like not me if I really did it. So I guess that means I don’t actually want to. Funny, huh?”

“Yes,” murmured Shiroe. “That is fascinating. I like the idea of you thinking about it, but I don’t want you to do it. Not really.”

“Well, I think this is a pretty damn great solution.”

“I do want you to hug me. Genuinely.”

“Yeah, good, because I’m all about that.”

So William held him then, and on the eagle ride to the next moon blossom glade, and in the midst of all the new flowers they got to see before the sun rose and they closed up to rest through the brilliant day. He held Shiroe tight and secure again afterward on the way back to William’s city, and as they landed in front of those damn gates again.

“I just want to say I’m glad we’re not a boyfriend couple whatever,” said William. “Because there’s lots of romcom shit about couples having a ‘place’, and if we were that and we had one, it’d be this, and I kind of seriously hate even looking at it.”

Shiroe laughed. “Are you sure that’s not the reason why you hate it?”

“Huh,” said William. He looked at the gates. He looked at the ground. He looked at Shiroe.

They weren’t forcing themselves to do cliché shit that didn’t fit, so yeah, maybe he didn’t hate this place.

Shiroe nodded sagely. His glasses glinted full white for a moment in the morning sun. “You are a truly extraordinary person, William Massachusetts.”

“Thanks,” said William, “so are you. Now come on. Just for that, walk me home. Tell your guild you’re staying one more day.”

“I already did.”

So William had to hug him again.

Shiroe was so cool for finding a way to repeat those words.

###

Shiroe stayed close at William’s shoulder, as William let them into the inn. It was loud inside, with everyone loitering and eyeing the kitchen door, likely hoping for an early lunch. But at least inside, it wasn’t so cold.

Shiroe had never liked the cold. Something about it made him feel alone. Rain, fog, snow, hail, and ice. Sometimes he didn’t like sunlight, either.

“Hey,” said William. “Let’s sleep.”

Shiroe nodded. “I brought lunch, but we didn’t stop. Do you think—”

“We can eat in my room. Bunch of starving noobs out here would try to fight us for it.”

Demikas snorted as they passed him by. William probably said that as an intentional tease. Shiroe never could figure out what was going on with them—siblings, maybe? Not necessarily by their blood. But there seemed to be something of it in the way they fought and jostled each other so easily, yet teamed up or sprang to defense the instant anyone else tried it.

Not that Shiroe, an only child—an alone child—had ever quite been able to imagine what loving someone like a sibling was supposed to feel like. He only knew what it looked like from the outside. He wasn’t even sure he liked the phrasing.

Maybe that was a little like what William had described, and why William felt he could only describe his feelings if he avoided nailing them down to so many words that weren’t right.

 _I never say anything I don’t mean._ He really tried to be true to himself, didn’t he?

Shiroe admired that.

William led him to his room, let Shiroe in, and closed the door behind them. Shiroe instinctively felt a spike of anxiety, but he tried to remember how his world had shifted. He didn’t have to be afraid of being misunderstood, or worrying about whether it was worth it to try to explain himself, here. He didn’t have to hide, run, or pretend.

“I tried eating on the bed before,” said William. “Doesn’t work.” He yanked a quilt off the bed and threw it on the ground. Then he knelt next to the hearth, stacked split logs, and fiddled with flint and steel.

Shiroe had to fight the urge to laugh. William seemed like he felt a little awkward at the moment. If you didn’t know him, he seemed constantly angry, always abrupt and sharp and quick, with strong, blunt, direct reactions to anything you said. That shifted slightly when he actually felt tense; mostly, he made less eye contact, or found a reason to turn away.

Shiroe settled down on the quilt. He slid his bag off his shoulder and produced their lunches from it. He’d brought traditional finger food balls of rice and fish, paired with his city’s famous burgers.

When William turned back, he clearly appreciated the incongruity, and the treat. He said, “Good pick, Shiroe,” and without hesitation, he dug in.

“I also brought good coffee, since yours is ‘actively shit’.”

William snorted. He had an odd combination of perfect and horrible table manners. He clearly knew some kind of complex etiquette, as he obeyed it automatically—in the way he placed his napkin and plates and the way he grabbed his onigiri _just so_. But he also really shoveled it all in, and he talked freely with his mouth full.

William seemed to have a lot of theories about more _Lord of the Rings_ easter eggs that might be out there in the game. He had a lot of places he had never got to, but wanted to—with Shiroe—someday. He was very blunt about that.

Shiroe said, “About that balcony of yours.”

William paused. “Yeah?”

“I had something like it. In a bad way. I didn’t build it, or garden there, but I would… go back. To this bench. Every time I went, I tried to figure out why, and what it meant to me. That was the place, you see, just a convenient place, I’d end up sitting, when I needed somewhere to sit, after anything… sad, I suppose… happened to me. If I’d let someone down. If I made a mistake. If I felt like I hadn’t been true to myself. It was just there. When I was no one, that was no one’s place.” _I’m too boring_.

“Did it make you feel better?”

“No. I think that was where I went when I thought I deserved to feel worse.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“It did.” _I’m too boring._

“We could dress it up,” said William. “Adopt a highway. Set down some plants. Where _is_ this bench of suck?”

“I guess it wasn’t actually that convenient. It was just… I have no idea. It’s where I keep ending up.”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. But I got a suggestion. I’m in… uh, well, I’m right off a train station. You can get to me from anywhere. I’ll send you my address. I mean, I don’t remember my address anymore, death and all and forgetting bits and pieces, but I always play at home, and when I wake up I’ll check my ID or the damn plate on the door. Anyway. You should come hang out with me next time instead of that bench.”

“Are you sure?” _I’m too boring._

“Yeah. You’re awesome. That’s why we get along.”

“People say… I’m too boring.”

“No way. You’re cool. I’m never bored around you.”

“That’s easy to say when we’re talking about,” Shiroe hesitated, and pushed his glasses up on his nose, “someday. Distant plans can always be remade. What about now, in the game? We might never go back to the real world.”

William shrugged. “Call me. Like we already do. We’ll explore shit. And hang out on private chat late at night. You can keep trying to get me into politics. I might not think the Round Table thing is right for Silver Sword, but I like what you’re trying to do. Just don’t make that thing your new bench of suck, okay. You don’t suck, and you’re not boring. You can call, or you can drop in again. I like when you put me in your schemes.”

Shiroe wasn’t sure what to say. He wiped off his hands. Then a yawn came over him, and he had a hard time opening his eyes again after it.

“Ugh.” William scowled at him, and then he also yawned. “You got me. Contagious. Damn it.”

“I do have that coffee,” said Shiroe.

William nodded decisively. “That’s gonna be great when we wake up.”

Shiroe looked at the bed. He looked at William.

William stood up and offered Shiroe his hand.

Shiroe had thought about this kind of scene before. He’d sat alone, on the bench, wondering what he’d do when he came to it. How he could explain himself. Whether he would bother, or simply pretend.

But this wasn’t what he had worried all his life about. This situation that he spent so much time dreading was different, with William. Not just because of Shiroe; William also wanted it that way.

“I can do my speech again,” said William. “Any of them. I can even make up a new one.”

“If you want.” Shiroe took William’s hand. He tugged, and William helped him up. “Actually… Would you tell me what you want?”

“Well, I want coffee, but I want to sleep first. I’m thinking about making out with you, like really hardcore, but I don’t actually want to do that. I want to hug you like when we were flying and wake up in the middle of the night, and then we can get up and have coffee. And then kill some shit, I guess.”

Shiroe laughed. He saw William grin. He saw William’s eyes fixed on him like his mind really was filled with him. He didn’t think Shiroe was boring. From the way William talked, the sides of Shiroe others called boring or frightening only drew William more strongly to him.

So they got in bed, Shiroe lying against William’s chest, and William’s arms crossed over him. Shiroe pulled the blankets up and burrowed in.

“Hey,” said William. His voice vibrated through their bodies, “Before you and I both drop off like rocks. I want to say you’re really great. You’re cool even when you’re not changing the whole world. I like it when you find stuff for me and us to do. It’s not about what’s supposed to be important, okay? I don’t let anybody tell me that. I decide what’s important to me.”

“Then what’s important to you, William?”

“Being me. Being free. And it’s like I said: you help me feel like me.” William shifted and fidgeted, then stopped. For a moment, he squeezed Shiroe tighter. “Yeah. That was it. Good night.” He sounded almost grumpy. It was hilarious.

Shiroe lifted his head and smiled against William’s skin, so Shiroe could be sure he felt it. “Thank you,” he said. “Good night.”

A grunt. A shuffling. Another tender, longer squeeze. And then, except their breath, silence.

The warmth, the security, and the openness. Shiroe felt completely like himself. He even treasured the awkward angles of their bones, because the effort to hold and fit meant that William was here, and so was Shiroe.

They were both themselves together, and neither had to be alone.


End file.
